confessions of the coffee addicted….

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What if you knew the date of your death. You were told that in 30 days, you would be gone. Nothing but a memory in the lives and memories of your friends, and those who loved you. What would you do? Would you live the last 20 days differently?

A friend of mine, that I have known since I was about 11, is dying. Granted, he is almost 84, and has had an extraordinarily great life, a wonderful wife, son and grandson, it does not make the impending loss of him any more acceptable, or less acute. It’s painful to know that in less than 30 days, he will be gone. It has caused me to think of my life and my giant list of shit I want to do before I leave this earthy plane. I have to admit that I have done a lot of things in my life, but I still have small list of stuff that I have on my “Bucket List”. You know, that list of random crap you wanna do before you get too to do it, or you die. Everyone has a Bucket List. You can’t truly live, unless you have goals in life. If you have no goals, you are rudderless…like a boat on the ocean with no way to steer yourself. What if you were to die tomorrow? What would you wish you could do before you die? What would you want to do? Where would you go? Any countries you have dreamed of visiting? Goals? Experiences? Moments? I don’t know. Some people dig sky-diving. I hate to fly, so flinging myself out of a perfectly good plane is a stupid, nonsensical idea. So what would your Bucket List contain? Travel to India? South Africa? Learn a new language? Salsa? Rumba? Tango?

Lost time is never found again…

Benjamin Franklin

Life is short. Yeah, and sometimes/most times it is fair, and there are certainly times when it sucks. In between running to work, and running home to make dinner, pick up the kids, go to soccer practice/dance/etc please remember that this isn’t a dress rehearsal. Do something every day, every week, every year. Even if it scares you. ESPECIALLY IF IT SCARES YOU.

Here is a slightly non-daring list. I invite you to Live out Loud.

( I have completed the ones in BOLD)

1. Renew your wedding vows

2. Solve a New York Times Crossword Puzzle

3. Learn to juggle.

4. Jump off of a waterfall

5. Go to Chicago for St. Patrick’s Day

6. Visit Abbey Road in London and re-create The Beatles’ cover with your friends…or stuffed animal

7. Take pictures with your friends in a photo booth

8. Scuba-Dive or Snorkel

9. Learn a new language

10. Visit a Communist Country

11. Try Haggis

12. Win a giant stuffed animal at a carnival.

13. Personally thank a firefighter/police officer/military veteran for their service

14. Pet a chicken

15. While at Disneyworld/Disneyland, hug the everloving SHIT out of Mickey Mouse/ Donald Duck/Goofy. You can try a “hat trick” if you want ( hug all three)

16. Drink a 100$ bottle of wine

17. Ride on the back of a motorcycle

18. Ride a Vespa/Moped

19. Get ice cream from a neighborhood ice cream truck.

20. Write your name in wet cement

21. Make a tie dye shirt and wear that bitch proudly

22. Be the house on the block with the most Christmas lights. Life is short. BE OBNOXIOUS

23. Have a pair of titty-pink plastic Flamingos in your front yard. Dress them up for the holidays

24. Own the Crayola 120 count box, and color a picture using every color in the box

Life is worth living every single day. I hate that Don is dying. But I like the fact that he will be at home, surrounded by loved ones, and passing on his terms. I asked him the other day how he feels about it ( dying) and he shrugged and said “it’s part of life. Sometimes it’s a surprise and sometimes you can plan”. He’s made his peace with everything in his life, his family, and his friends and I have to respect a man who can face it with the huge amount of bravery that he is. I couldn’t do it. I am just not that brave.

He is a good man with a great attitude. I hope I have that when my time comes.

It isn’t pretty, or cool…It’s killing my mother. Day by day by day, and I am mad as fuck about it. To my friends who still smoke—please…STOP. Immediately.

I am BEGGING you.

My mom had a stroke on 5 April 2015. One of the complicating factors is her COPD. For those who are unaware of COPD, it is Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It is a disease of the lungs ( pulmonary system) of which tobacco smoking is the main cause. The rate at which COPD worsens varies with the presence of a variety of factors that predict a poor outcome, including severe airflow obstruction, little ability to exercise, shortness of breath, significantly underweight or overweight, congestive heart failure and continued smoking. There is no cure for COPD and the prognosis for chronic COPD sufferers is poor.

I am pissed at this. I am angry. I hate that she smoked and I hate that this fucking disease is going to kill her.

You are WARNED… the following blog post contains coarse language regarding perimenopause and menopause. Men…You may wish to avert your eyes and pick up a HUSTLER magazine or something….. Seriously……

Ladies….READ ON…

When I wore a younger woman’s undies I would sit around and listen to my older female relatives chat about what they called, back then, the “Change of Life” ( henceforth indicated as “COL”). Sounded good to me at the time. I mean, my life was pretty much mundane at that point and I thought a little change would do me good. Sounds interesting. Tell me more. They spoke of not having their period anymore and suddenly I because super psyched! I was so on board with this shit!!

I could not WAIT for it to get here!

Now, roll the tape forward about 30 years until now. I’m 49 and in the fifth full year of my own perimenopausal/menopausal/COL experience and I think to myself ,“I’d gladly take that period back if it meant no more hot flashes.” Sometimes, my little honeys, the grass is greener on the other side and sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it is mind wiltingly crappy and hotter than the face of the fucking sun. I wish I could take back the words I said about getting rid of my period so I can go through menopause. I do NOT have any pom-pom’s cheering on menopause any more. My grandmother warned me. I was listening to her and her sister-in-law talking about the COL and I said that I was looking forward to it. She adjusted her glasses, and her beehive, and she smirked at me.

“Be careful what you wish for…”.

Truer words have never been spoken in the Twentieth century. Holy Shit. The truth?

MENOPAUSE SUCKS.

I am not gonna sugar-coat it. It sucks. It sucks balls. The nasty truth is that sometimes your poor body is ill-equipped to deal with all the wackiness that ensues when you go through perimenopause/COL. My Grandmother and her s-i-l made it seem all like a big old walk in the park, replete with rainbows, kittens and balloons.The shiteousness has never been so evident in my live-long days. The ugly truth is that I am completely ill-equipped to deal with this.

Menopause is not just for little old ladies. My symptoms started appearing at the age of 45 and have been a near constant presence in my life and is there to remind me that no matter what I do, my body is in charge. And in change. Not me. Sometimes life is a mean, hateful little bitch you want to jack up and kill. Daily.

Go downstairs and turn your oven on 400 degrees and sit in the oven. “Wow, that is some serious kind of hot”, you think. Heh Heh. Heh. Now, have someone lock the door of the oven and adjust the temperature to broil for about 10 minutes…5-8 times a day. The heat is stifling. Water beads on your brow. Your shirt becomes so wet you can wring it out and water a garden with your sweat. I swear to god it is like swallowing the Sun. Welcome to the wild, wonderful world of hot flashes. Someone jokingly referred to them as power surges. In that case, I could most likely power a small european nation. It’s misery and it’s not funny. Well, for the most part. Okay, it’s funny at times.

An article in The Huffington Post says that, on average, perimenopause/COL can last “as long as 14 years”, whith the average being 7.5 years.

Excuse me?

WHAT.THE.HELL.

Congratulations on your ability to make drama out of absolutely NOTHING! Seriously. You turn into the Empress of all Drama Queens. Everything is either absolutely tragic and tear inducing, or everything is evil, in which case something must be stabbed ( repeatedly ) until dead, or at least until mortally wounded. My Emotions? All over the map. I can cry at the drop of a hat. I can scream at the TV and the next minute, dissolve into a puddle of snot and tears. My husband probably thinks I am nuts.

He’s probably right.

I have such dry skin that I feel like I am going to peel like a snake. I have tried every lotion known to man, and nothing alleviates it. I look in the mirror and I swear to God that I look just like Bea Arthurand the look is NOT PRETTY. I want to cry,and then slater myself in coconut oil. and sit in the oven while I spontaneously burst into flames.

My ability to multi-task went out the door completely, along with my memory. I can barely get one task done, much less the 20 a day that I used to manage. If I can find my car keys AND scratch my ass, then it is a fanfuckingtastic kind of day. I have to write EVERYTHING down except peeing and breathing. My house is a fucking rainbow of Post-It notes. I constantly forget what I am supposed to be doing and I have to check my surroundings to see where I am and if I have a reason to be there. Sometimes I just treat it like a surprise, like, “BOO! You are at Kohl’s…Now… WHY?”.

I woke up one day last week and noticed them. They attacked me in the night and became part of my very person. Bingo Wings. Truckstop Lady Arms. Bat Wings. They go by many names, depending on where you live, but suddenly you have them. Flabby arms that wave goodbye when you raise your arm. I could knock myself out. Cold. And since I am now suddenly vain about my arms, the long sleeve shirts stay on. Even if it is 97 degrees outside and I am THISCLOSE to bursting into flame.

I have always had insomnia issues, but perimenopause/COL has kicked this shit into high gear. Sometimes I can sleep like the dead for 9-12 hours straight and some nights I am up and down more than a 2-Dolla Ho. Ambien can’t touch my inability to sleep and I read somewhere than anxiety escalates during perimenopause/COL. Wow. I did not believe it. BELIEVE IT. I have always been an anxious person, and I am petrified because now I am even MORE anxious. I toss and turn and chatter in my sleep, and I get up and go into the other room at 3.23AM. I have no idea what has made me so anxious, I can now name you what comes on TV on every channel with the America’s Choice Package on Dish Network because I have seen EVERYTHING ON TV. In case you were curious, TV after 1AM sucks.

I am bloated like a Beluga Whale. I read that fluid retention and excessive intestinal gas are all part of perimenopause/COL. Everything bloats me, but I swear to GOD that the noxious odor is because of the dog.

Reading my friend Julie’s lasted blogpost ( http://musingsfromaworkaholic.com/2015/02/04/its-that-time-of-year-again/) I had to chuckle. She and I both share a complete and total aversion to Valentine’s Day. Her aversion is due to the fact that for some reason, that particular day, for her, is a fucking accident magnet of near-epic proportions. She is either sick as a dog, in hospital, broke something, fractured something, something is bleeding ( and it is not supposed to) or something went left, that would-a, should-a, could-a went right. The list of epic fails for her, for Valentine’s day, is a funny, funny read. Do yourself a favor.

I hate Valentine’s Day because I am cheap. I know my husband loves me. I don’t need some tacky flowers and some thoroughly disgusting chocolate flavored matter from him to tell me he loves me. I can tell he loves me because he works hard to provide for us, is concerned with my happiness and my safety and he tells me every single day that he does. I don’t understand how an over-priced meal for two at Frou-Frou Bistro can possibly demonstrate something I already know. He is wonderful and every day is kind of like Valentine’s Day anyway. Yeah, you can throw up if you feel the need.

He loves me. I love him. It’s not a single-day event. It is 365 days a year. If you love someone, please take 5 seconds out of your day and tell them you love them. You are never guaranteed a tomorrow. Don’t wait. Please never wait.

Because nothing says I love you like over-priced, mostly dead vegetation and fat-saturated sugar products.

A lot of people are aware that currently, I am not working. In order to save time and stretch those food dollars as far as they can possibly go, I make a lot of home made soups and casseroles and simple meals involving chicken and lesser used meats, like turkey. This is my (nearly) World Famous Chicken Soup that I make about twice a month. It freezes really REALLY well, so the stretchability (?!) is pretty far, usually 3-4 meals depending on appetite ( of husband) and size of the narrow-face ( chicken) involved in the recipe.

I usually get my cooked chicken at BJ’s. A lot of people start with just a regular fryer, but I find that the rotisserie cooking imparts a delicious spice to the base of the soup. Bj’s always has these wonderful chickens cooking, all day. They are huge, juicy and at $3.99, a real bargain. For the two of us, Dear Hubby and I, it is a smorgasbord if numminess because there is enough to make a wonderful pot of soup AND some chicken salad for the hubby to take to work. He loves the stuff.

The first thing I do when I get it home, is remove the skin from the chicken and throw that in a pot with 2 cups water, some salt, pepper, rosemary, oregano and 3 bay leaves. Then, with near-surgical precision, I take all the meat off the chicken and I divide it into 2/3 in one bowl, 1/3 in another bowl, wrap them up and put in the fridge until later.

Take the leftover bones, gizzards ( if present) wing tips, et al, and throw them in the pot with the skin, salt and pepper. Add one cup diced Vidalia onion, 1/2 cup diced celery and 1/2 cup diced carrot and toss in the pot. Turn the gas on medium and cover, and simmer about 4 hours, occasionally stirring and letting the stock reduce.

AVENGERS ASSEMBLE !!!!!

Now is the really fun part, the gettin’ down to buziness part!

Strain the chicken bones and crap out of the boiled chicken and return the veggies to the pot. Add 1 cup water and salt and pepper ( to taste) and add the following:

The picked through 2/3 chicken, either shredded or diced

5 Carrots- washed, peeled and cut up- throw in pot

1 large Leek- washed, and patted dry. Cut off leafy part and tip- discard, chop up- throw in pot

I will stop sending e-mails to my husband telling him to go to the store. I can go to the store. I am a grown up. Now, if you don’t mind, there is a Tonka truck with my name on it….

I will think of a password other than “password” or “hello” or “password123” or “hello123“…..ad nauseum…

I will stop considering other people’s feelings when they so obviously don’t consider mine – if that unwashed fellow sits next to me again, I’ll tell him he stinks!

I will do less laundry and use more deodorant. I figure that it is a economical and ecological win-win..WOO HOO!

I will give up chocolates totally…Except for Dark Chocolate…and some milk chocolates…and caramel, I LOVE caramel…

Just for today, I will not sit in my living room all day in my nightdress. Instead, I will move my computer into the bedroom and sit there. Different location…Different attitude!

I will spend less than one hour a day on the Internet. Let me reset my computer to Australia time. That way it will be tomorrow and I will have more time.

When I hear a funny joke, I will not reply, or forward. Much.

I will try to figure out why I really need ten e-mail addresses…replete with passwords I cannot possibly remember…

I will not eat medicine just because it looks like candy..Except Xanax…That IS candy.

I will regularly wash my underwear, instead of turning it inside-out.

I will watch more TV. It’s very educational. Catch up on all those programs I missed down the years. I am DYING to know who killed Laura Palmer!

I will play more computer games. Scientists say they’re good for me and improve my visual skills. Besides, I am a level 97 mage with huge bazonkas. It will bolster my self-esteem.

I will eat more nice things like candy, Big Macs, popcorn, and ice cream. Eat less crap like fresh fruit, vegetables, and soy nuts. I bet in 30 years Scientists will discover all that shit is good for you.

I promise to stick to these resolutions for more than a week…11 days tops!

I will learn what the “resolution” means. I resolve to find out.

I will leave my brain at home while going to watch the supposedly scary movies. And I will remember that “it is just a movie!!

I will endeavor to lose weight, although now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average… which means, you have met your New Year’s resolution. Woo Hoo. That was QUICK!!!

It has just been one of those icky, shitty rainy days that was created for sleeping in and being lazy. Summer has finally given way to fall, and the temperatures went from about 95 to 55 practically over night. Laziness leads to boring list-y blogs…

Like this one.

Now that I’m older….. here’s what I have discovered:

1. I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

2. My wild oats are mostly enjoyed with prunes and All-Bran.

3. I finally got my head together, and now my body is falling apart. Damnit.

4. Funny, I don’t remember being absent-minded.

5. Funny, I don’t remember being absent-minded.

6. If all is not lost, then where the heck is it? Sure as hell ain’t nowhere around here…

7. It is a whole lot easier to get older, than to get wiser.

8. Some days, you’re the top dog. Some days, you’re the hydrant. Most times I am the hydrant. Okay, technically, I am ALWAYS the hydrant.

9. I wish the buck really did stop here. I sure could use a few of them. They need to stop. Soon. In my mailbox.

10. Kids in the back seat cause accidents.

11. Accidents in the back seat cause kids.

12. It’s hard to make a comeback when you haven’t been anywhere.

13. The world only beats a path to your door when you’re in the bathroom. The phone only rings when I am on the can.

14. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he’d have put them on my knees. They are fine where they are.

15. When I’m finally holding all the right cards, everyone wants to play chess. or Checkers. Or Bunco. Whay IS Bunco, anyway?

16. It’s not hard to meet expenses… they’re everywhere. and they hate me.

17. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth. and the occupant.

18. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter . . .I go somewhere to get something, and then wonder what I’m “here after”. Screw it.